Lost Without You
by Chowdergal
Summary: AU. The boarding school Alfred had lived within all these years haven't proved anything special; until he happens to find a heartbroken ghost in the forbidden part of school. USUK Some FrUK
1. Prologue

"You can't be serious can you; there is no way that I'm doing that!"

Arthur Kirkland wanted absolutely nothing to do with those little runts called children. Watching them play across the yard made him shudder, their talking made him cringe, while their laughter made all the hairs on his body prick up.

So it wasn't much of a surprise that fine autumn day when the Englishman was practically clutching the table for support in front of the smiling Frenchman. The person came from the society of education for children, claiming to be for the greater good and blah, blah, blah. _"Let's just get this over with." _

"Come on Arthur. It's for a good cause; think of all the wonderful things that could come from it! Think about the homeless, poor children that you'll make happy!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. Once again that French idiot had decided to pay a visit to his manor, trying to persuade him to use up his hard earned house for a bunch of brats. Exactly how long would it be until Francis got it through his head that he wouldn't trade up anything for them? Especially not this house.

"Francis, if not a thousand, I've told you a hundred times that there is no way I'm having children running around this place. What if they break something priceless?"

"You don't have to give the whole house, just a small porti-"

"My decision is final." interrupted Arthur. "If that's all you have to say, then leave now."

The Frenchman's smile was replaced with a frown; the look of disappointment in his eyes.

"No, no that is not all I have to say. How could you, a gentleman, stand there and watch while kids all over London suffer from lack of education? What's even worse is that you stand by and watch all these illiterate people work in those crowded factories with no chance of ever having something more. Your father was the richest and kindest person my family served. If you had half the heart he did…"

"What my father did is and will never be any of your business, Francis." said Arthur coldly. "All he did was help children, and look where it got him; buried six feet under. Do me a favor frog; since you have your own house and wealth, leave me alone. You can have this house long after I'm dead."

"Fine _mon cher_, but let me remind you, things happen to spoiled brats like you." And with that, the Frenchman turned on his heels and left.

The Briton rubbed his temples. The French Bonnefoy family had been serving under the house of the Kirklands for years without question, and then this man comes along and wants to question every single little step Arthur makes. Even though they've known each other since birth, Arthur had barely seen him. As a child, Arthur had been sheltered under his mother away from the other children. Francis on the other hand, got to go everywhere and see everything. In truth, Arthur was as isolated as the country he lived on; hardened by all the loneliness.

He looked towards the plate of scones he was supposed to eat. Might as well, it would calm him down just a little bit.

_Crack!_

The man had barely taken a bite before a ball went through his window, making a huge gaping hole. The ball landed near his foot along with fragmented pieces of the glass.

"What the hell?"

Looking down from the gap, he saw two guilty looking boys staring up at the broken window who didn't hesitate to run after they'd caught one glimpse of Arthur's enraged face.

"Bloody kids!" he bellowed with fury. "This is why I hate children!" Honestly, Francis wanted to turn this place into a school?

Arthur inspected the hole. The damage was so great it was big enough for him to fall through and would most likely take months, (and hundreds of pounds) to fix the stupid thing. Brilliant. For now, he might as well cover it up with a cloth of some sort. As he did that, he suddenly lost his balance and came tumbling out of the window. Arthur screamed, managing to grab hold of one of the poles the stuck out from the window of the house.

_Snap! _

The pole under so much pressure broke, sending the Englishman tumbling down the three story window. Everything went black before the sharp end of the pole jabbed into his neck, and the grass made red.

* * *

The front door opened. Heavy shoes clunked throughout the hallway while the confused emerald eyes searched the darkened manor. He didn't remember waking up, and he certainly didn't remember how he got from the front yard back into the house again. The Brit made his way carefully throughout the hall, barely making a sound. He touched his neck and winced with pain. It felt as if someone had drilled something into it, yet no blood was on his fingertips. This was strange; where there should have been a bloody gash, there was perfectly flawless skin. He'd fallen from a great height, there had to at least have been some blood or something had to be broken. Something wasn't right…

He turned on the light. The entire room had been draped in completely in black. His royal blue curtains had been replaced by ebony ones. Arthur's expression grimaced. _The ones that I used when I hosted the funeral for my little brother… _

His attention was drawn to a dim light coming from the study room. Arthur walked towards it and opened the door. Nothing could prepare him for what he saw.

Gathered around the room were at least 30 people. They too, dressed in black looking mournfully at the coffin before them. Among the people were his older brothers and…

"Francis?"

The Frenchman came up to the coffin, placing a red rose onto its lid. All the laughter was gone from those blue eyes.

"Rest in peace, Arthur." he whispered softly before kissing the top.

"Rest in peace, what the bloody hell are you talking about?" yelled Arthur, moving towards Francis. He extended a hand out to slap some sense into the man, but when the fingers touched his face, the hand phased right on through.

Suddenly, it all made sense; no blood, no cracked skull, no broken limbs. It was all because his body was not attached to him anymore. He was a spirit, a soul departed from his shell.

In other words, he was dead. He didn't survive that fall.

"N-no! It can't be; I refuse to believe! That can't be me, I can't be dead!"

Pushing a bystander roughly away, he opened the lid of the coffin. Dressed in his best clothes was the corpse of Arthur. The undertaker managed to get most of the pole from his neck, only a sliver of it remained. All the blood that may have been still in his body was gone; making him like deathly pale. The sickening feeling of truth clawed its way into the pit of his stomach. That wasn't him anymore; it was just a shell. That strong and proud Arthur was gone, he died with his body. This was the new him, a ghost lost with the years of the past.

"Francis, please answer!" he bellowed, looking desperately into the eyes of the Frenchman. In response, the man started crying.

Blood streamed down his face, staining his collar and fine jacket. Pools of red appeared by his side. Horrified, Arthur saw it was coming from Francis' sleeves, he watched as him and all the other guests melted into their own blood, leaving only crimson behind.

The body of Arthur sprang from its coffin, grasping the ghost's neck with its blood speckled hands. Even its blond hair was now caked with the foul smelling stuff. Arthur cringed in fear. This was probably what he looked like when he was discovered on the front lawn. Eyes rolled back into its head, it said to the frightened spirit;

"Welcome to death Kirkland."

The thing threw him across the room.

Scrambling to his feet, he ran away from his body and out the front door. Anywhere was better than there; he needed answers and quick.

"Bloody kids! This is why I hate children!"

The Briton looked around; he was back in the house. The third floor to be exact.

"Wh-how?"

There was another Arthur in the room, busy inspecting the hole. A maid went straight through ghost Arthur quietly, but quickly. What was she…

The woman gave a sharp push on Arthur's back, sending him through the window. It was like reliving his death all over again.

"I was…murdered?"

Without giving the Briton more time to think, the scene changed to a new one. On the velvet couch laid the girl and….Francis. With a smirk on her face, she pulled him close.

"Death is pretty cruel to love, oui?" and then their lips met.

A hole formed in Arthur's chest as watched in pain. A hole that would never be repaired. He never realized that he actually cared for the Frenchman until now. Until he was dead….

The room changed back to normal, leaving a broken hearted man.

* * *

Eventually the time moved on and everyone forgot about the wealthy Arthur Kirkland and his big mansion. The house had been completely stripped bare of its furnishings except for the upper top floor where Arthur dwelled, moping about. Every day, he would close his eyes, half expecting this entire thing to be just a bad dream. Each time, he failed miserably. There was no escaping his reality.

And no escaping the house either. Every time he tried, he found himself back on the third floor, reliving his death each time; seeing the same things that lead to his death.

The only thing that kept him busy was the diary he had kept. He would spend hours writing in it, wishing someone would take him away from this place.

90 years passed before the Englishman set eyes on another living being again. The car pulled up to the long forgotten manor silently. Out stepped 3 people. By the looks of them from the window; two were kids much to Arthur's dismay and the other was an adult.

"Is this the house grand pere Francis?" squeaked the first child. Arthur's ears perked up.

"_Francis?" _

"Oui, this is it."

"_Francis, it has to be him…"_ heart skipping beats, Arthur floated down the stairs and towards the door as it opened. "Oh, thank god I-"

He stopped dead cold. The Francis he knew from long ago wasn't there. Where flowing blond hair should have been was replaced with brittle gray fallout hair. His once flawless skin was littered with wrinkles and liver spots. His tidy beard was now shaggy and longer. The most shocking thing was his eyes; nothing was in there anymore. They were dull and grey.

Arthur hadn't changed a bit, but the Frenchman before him had. He watched in horror as the old man stumbled across the dusty floor boards.

"Matthew, Alfred, you must be my eyes." he whispered to the children present. They both nodded, taking his rough hands.

Arthur could've cringed at the sight of 3 year olds in his house if he wasn't too distracted by Francis' ghastly appearance. What had happened to his love?

The lingered together for a moment before the old man sudden said,

"I want to have a moment, run along." The two boys nodded, heading up the grand stairway.

The Frenchman blindly traced a finger on the railing of the stairs.

"Ah Arthur, it's been so long, and there's been so many memories of us together. I just wish our last one didn't have to be…." he turned away from the bare railing. "That maid told me everything eventually; confessed to killing you….I'm so sorry mon cher; if I hadn't left you alone, you would still be here. And then perhaps…"

He stopped to wipe a tear from his eye. "I'm an old man; I can't keep this house from realtors forever. So that's why I've sold it."

"No….no you wouldn't…."

"If you can hear from up there Arthur, please don't be angry with me. I did it for your father…." He turned his attention the sound of children upstairs. Francis gave a smile. "How'd you enjoy looking into your new school?"

"Do we really have to go here?" complained Alfred. "I wanna go back home!"

"This is your home now-or at least it will be within a few months. You won't even recognize it when we return. The dust will be gone, the bugs and rodents will be eliminated. Come, let's leave." They started towards the door.

Arthur's heart rose up and down in rapid motion. No….he couldn't let him leave. Not yet. The Briton without thinking pulled him into a hug.

"Oh darling, oh god! Please don't go!" he busted out into tears. "I love you; I've always loved you!"

Matthew tugged on Francis' shirt. "Are we leaving?" The Frenchman nodded.

"Oui, let's go."

The Frenchman went right through his lover's arms.

"Damn!" Arthur instantly collapsed to the floor. "Francis, don't leave me!" His tears glistened down his cheeks, his eyes red from crying. "I'll do anything, I swear; just see me! Acknowledge that I'm here!"

The little small boy turned around.

"Why is there a man on the floor? Why is he crying?"

"Don't be silly Alfred, there's no one there." Matthew said back.

"But he's right there!" the boy protested, pointing in Arthur's direction.

_The child could see him…he could see the dead…_

"Please…" Arthur called out weakly. "…please…"

Regardless of his begs the three left, leaving Arthur alone once more in a pool in his own sorrow.

* * *

**Hi! **

**So that's the prologue, of the story. Kinda strange isn't it? Oh, and the beginning isn't supposed to make any sense. ^^ It will later be explained in other chapters. **

** Review! (As always)**


	2. Discovery

Alfred F. Jones stared out of the window, bored as hell from studying.

"And now we'll go over quadratic equations and how to do them…" came the long monotonous voice of the teacher.

The American groaned softly. He hated exam review, always had. He was more interested in the worm crawling its way across the window than class work.

"Jones! If you don't pay attention, you'll never pass this exam!" scolded the teacher before turning back around to write on the board. Alfred in return rolled his eyes.

He had always hated the halls he walked through every day of his miserable life here at Grimwitche's boarding school for boys. One, not only was the school an old mansion back from God knows what, but it was far, far away from his true home back in the states. His parents had arranged it, saying it was "necessary" for him to go out in the world and explore other nations.

"Yes mom, I want to explore other nations, not live in them for the rest of my young life!" he mumbled to himself bitterly. His parents didn't understand; they were too blinded by their love of money to actually see what their child wants for himself. This was more of a punishment rather than a treat. They thought he was too wild, so they shipped him to Britain. Excellent thing to do….

Alfred was the first to be up and out of his chair when the bell sounded. He ran out of the classroom before anyone else had a chance to get up and collect their books. Not seeing where he was going, he bumped into the person in front of him.

"Watch where you're going Jones." growled the dark skinned boy.

Alfred mumbled a quick sorry before moving past him. Of all the Kirks he could've bumped into, he just had to be unlucky to bump into Devon Harrison, a transfer student from the British island of Bermuda.

A Kirk was anyone who was descended in some way from Arthur Kirkland, the somewhat founder of this school. They felt it was their duty to attend this school and run it, even though half of them don't even know anything about their ancestor's background. Alfred wondered just how many were floating around the school at the moment….shouldn't be too hard; Kirks were known for their unusually thick eyebrows.

He was about to go up to his room, when he saw his brother Matthew, waiting by the stairs.

"Matty!" he called out to the other. The Canadian gave one look in his brother's direction and quickly turned away, hoping that Alfred wouldn't bother him if he just walked away.

No such luck, a firm hand gripped his shoulder. He mustered a smile towards the beaming American. "Hey, Al. How's it going?"

Alfred gave a sigh. "Oh, you know...the usual. I have this test coming up and I didn't get a word of what the teacher said."

"Why am I not surprised." Matthew muttered under his breath. "Anyway, I have my own essay to do on the founder of this school; Arthur Kirkland. Long ago this house was owned by a man; a wealthy, greedy, child-hating man. One day he met his end by accidently falling out of that third story window up there." Matthew said, pointing up to the dusty window on the third floor. "After that, no one really knows where his body was carried except the people who buried him and Grand Pere Francis."

"Do you know where it is then, his body, I mean." asked Alfred, raising his eyebrows.

"Sadly, I don't. It was such a huge deal to Grand Pere that even he didn't tell me where his body was hidden. It's a real mystery."

"Why wouldn't Francis let anyone know where the body is? There must be treasure buried with him, or other deep dark secrets!"

Matthew cringed at the sight of the sparkle in his brother's blue eyes. "Alfred," he began, "We have exactly no clue on where to begin searching for him! For all we know, he could be in some old shack 20 miles from here. We should ju-"

He was too late; Alfred grabbed his hand and dragged back into the school. Once in the safety of his dormitory, the American plopped down on the bed and opened a map of the school.

"The body couldn't have left the school grounds." Alfred said, tracing his finger around the gate. "It's most defiantly on school grounds; the only problem is where is it?"

"Alfred, just let it go! Even if we did find it, do you know what would be in the coffin?"

"Treasure?"

"No, a cold skeleton with bugs all over it!"

But Alfred didn't listen; he drew a red circle around the area next to the school's library. "You know that boarded up place that was the old part of the school before it was closed for unexplained reasons? I have a funny feeling that's where the body of Arthur Kirkland rests. And I'm going to be the one to discover it!"

"That place is forbidden, if you're caught, you could be expelled!" warned the brother.

"All the better to go up there. I'm sick of living here. I'd rather be back in the states with a good ol' cheeseburger in my hand."

Matthew sighed. There was no way that any of his words would change his brother's answer now. He just stood there as Alfred worked out the details of the investigation.

Night came quickly for the American. He stood next to the door with Matthew who was visibly shaking. Alfred turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll stand guard won't you, Matty?"

"You have twenty minutes Alfred." his brother said in return. "Twenty minutes you'd b-better be out of there o-otherwise-"

"Glad to here that!" Alfred called out, already down the tunnel. As soon as he couldn't see the school lights anymore, he switched on the flashlight. Cobwebs surrounded the area, and even became more frequent as he went deeper in the tunnel. Rats scurried across the floor. It looked as if no one had been down here for over fifty years.

"_Oh yeah,"_ Alfred thought, _"There's defiantly something down here."_ With every stair he took, it made a creaking noise as if the stair could collapse at any second. At last, he reached the third floor. He stopped in front of the first door he came in contact with. Judging by where he was in the abandoned part of the mansion, this door must be where the accident took place. Whatever was behind these doors had been concealed since this guy's death and he would be the first one in almost a century to open it. Heart racing with excitement, he opened the door.

As soon as he went inside, the atmosphere changed. Suddenly, Alfred didn't feel too excited anymore. The room gave off an ominous feeling that even he felt its presence. It seemed to reject the American all together. Regardless, he remained calm and looked around. The place was littered with huge amounts of dust and cobwebs. A comfortable, yet expensive chair sat in the corner right next to several stacks of bookcases, all filled with thick encyclopedias.

"_What a geek."_ Alfred thought, going through things lying on the desk. Old documents, notes, and newspaper articles; nothing suspicious about that. Just at the edge of the desk was a velvet covered book. The American picked it up and read through a random passage.

"_Dearest friend,_

_How long has it been since I felt you soft hair, turned to see your beautiful blue eyes shine like stars? Not a day goes by when I…." _

"Odd, it just ends right there." he said aloud. Why would it? Did something come up and he never returned to finish it? He checked the date.

_October 14, 1934. _

But didn't Matthew say something about this Kirkland guy dying way before 1934? Then how the hell? Convinced it was a misprint, Alfred flipped to another page. This passage was dated even later; _July 10, 1984. _

Something was off, really off. Either this man didn't know how to date his entries or he has been continuing to write in his journal even after the accident. In that case, it was the man's _ghost_.

All of a sudden, the young man felt sick to his stomach. He knew there were going to be rats, spiders and other gross things, but ghosts? No one mentioned ghosts to him! He would've never tried finding the man's body if he knew it was going to disturb his ghost!

In a classic case of fate, the door slammed shut. Alfred rushed to it; trying to get it open. But even with his abnormal strength, the teenager failed in doing so.

"Dammit." he cursed under his breath. "Alright, there's no need to be scared; someone will come for you sooner or later. After all, you are Alfred F. Jones! American! This British place doesn't scare you one bi-"

He jumped slightly when he heard a bump come from the age old bookcase. "Though, it would be nice if someone came for me right now! I-It's probably just a rat." he assured himself. _And not a vengeful ghost._ When the strange sound happened again, he inched closer. "Hello? I-Is anyone there?" he asked uncertainly.

In his attempt to investigate the sound further, he tripped on a torn curtain. He got to his feet quickly, blindly searching for his glasses. The sooner he found his glasses, the soon he could try to tear down the door again and get out of there.

Suddenly, what seemed like an outstretched hand, held Alfred's glasses. The American gave a smile, believing it was his brother.

"Oh, Thank yo-"

The blurred figure came into focus, causing Alfred to take a step back. His eyes widened.

Standing right in front of him was the ghost Arthur Kirkland.

The two stood at each other for a great deal of time, green eyes locked with blue. Arthur finally cleared his throat. "C-Can you see me?"

Alfred dropped to his knees. "Oh please, oh please mighty Kirkland, don't smite me! I was only looking about, I never meant to grave rob you! I don't even know where your grave is ! Please spare my life, and I will leave thee alone!"

Arthur had jumped back at the American's sudden outburst, but was still amazed. "So you can see me; incredible." he inched closer to Alfred and knelt down, hesitating at first before touching the crying man's chest, hair, and face. At this, the American leapt up and backed away from the man as fast as possible.

"Wh-Whoa, personal boundaries!"

"S-Sorry." Arthur said, looking slightly embarrassed. "It's just that I can touch you, I haven't been able to do such a thing in years."

Alfred paled. Not only was this man a ghost, but he was also a pervert. He ran towards the door.

"No, don't go! I haven't seen a human being in years!"

"Sorry, but Alfred is out!" the American exclaimed, attempting to pry open the door again. "Someone help me!"

Finally after several wild attempts, he managed to run out of the room. Arthur stood there in shock still trying to comprehend what had happened. Was what he just witnessed actually true, or was it just his imagination? Whatever it was, he had to record it in his diary. He reached for the book when he found out it wasn't where he left it.

His eyes widened. So it was real….he had actually had a human see him.

And steal his notebook.


	3. Help?

_**First of all, I would like to thank everyone for reviewing for this story. It motivated me to write another chapter as soon as possible, which is something I don't normally do past chapter 2. Thanks guys! **_

_**Second, I'm going to try and finish it for everyone; I already have the entire thing laid out since last year. XD **_

_**Enjoy my first ever third chapter!**_

"Alfred, Alfred? What's the matter with you? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"T-That's exactly w-what I saw." the American said, collapsing onto the nearby chair in the dorm. His heart had still not stopped furiously beating ever since his encounter with the dead man. Out of all things, there was a ghost living on the forbidden third floor? Has that thing been there ever since he died? Of course it has, otherwise it wouldn't be there now.

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "A ghost? Alfred, you do realize there's no such thing as ghost right? It's been proven time and time again in various ghost hunting television shows. They're just a part of the imagination of people who want to scare other people away from someplace in order to avoid tearing it down, or selling it to someone else." Alfred frowned.

"But a man _feeling_ my body is my imagination?" His brother gave an uncharacteristic smirk.

"I didn't know you liked men, Alfred." A blush rose across the other's face.

"T-That's not! Listen, what I'm saying to you is the truth. I know what I saw, and what I saw was the ghost of Arthur Kirkland. He's out to get me, after I snagged this." he took out the diary he pocketed from before and flipped to a random page dated October 4th, 1996 and read aloud;

"_My dearest friend, _

_A trio of unexpected visitors came to the house today. How my heart pounded with excitement as I realised that it was the voice of my love, my darling Francis. But even as his voice remained strong and beautiful, time had eaten away at him. He was like a cold empty shell whose spirit was about to depart. I just knew it. How I wished for him to die right there at that moment, so we could be together forever. My heart ached so badly for it, but he just turned away from the house leaving me trapped. _

_Except the young boy to the left of him, he turned around and saw me there. For a second, I thought, maybe perhaps he was a ghost himself, but he looked very much alive. It was extraordinary a human among the living could see me. Was it fate?" _

Alfred re-read the entire passage again, his brain trying to comprehend what the entry was trying to say. Then it hit him. A vague memory from when he was three flashed across his mind. He remembered a man sobbing and begging Francis not to leave; that he'd always loved him. Was it possible that the Francis Alfred knew was the same Francis that this ghost knew in person? He hadn't heard Francis talked anything about him, but maybe it was because he was trying to keep it a secret? It just had to be. And if that was the case, then the ghost he encountered that night was the same ghost that was there with them when he first stepped foot in this miserable school.

"Don't you see Matty; all this is-" He looked up to see that the brother had gotten up and walked away a long time ago. Alfred just gave a sigh and continued flipping through the diary. "He'll believe me soon enough when he sees the ghost roaming the halls in search fo-"

"What. The Hell. Are you doing with my diary?"

Alfred looked up in fear to see that Arthur Kirkland appeared right in front of him in an angry red puff, pissed off that someone was reading everything he had written for the past century or so. As the ghost advanced on the American, Alfred backed up onto the bed.

"W-Wait! I know about you and Francis!"

Arthur in a fit of rage grabbed the American by the neck and hoisted him up in the air. "You've been messing around with my diary haven't you, boy? Tell me, what else did you look at? How far did you read?" Alfred struggled to breathe, but the Englishman had a firm grip around his windpipe. All he could do was make little gagging noises. This ghost was going to kill him. All for looking into his diary just once.

All of a sudden, the door opened to reveal a small boy about fifteen years of age. "M-Mr. Jones? I have your p-papers you left in your c-class I w-would have returned them sooner, but Ivan h-had m-me…."

He stared up at the floating man with wide eyes, breathing deeply before he ran out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

"Wait, Raivis! Save me from this madman!" Alfred cried out. The ghost sighed as he returned the choking American back to ground.

"He won't be able to see me; just like the others haven't been able to."

"What do y-you mean?" Alfred demanded, still holding onto his throat. "I can see you just fine!"

"That's the interesting part. You're different from the others."

"So that's what you meant when you wrote in your diary that a little boy was able to see you!"

"Yes. Come to think of it; he looked almost like you…but, that's not the issue right now. Anything else you've been snooping around in?"

"That was the only thing, I swear…except for maybe a few erotic stories you wrote in the very back of the book." Arthur's temperature flared up again. Sensing danger as the Englishman advanced closer to him, Alfred quickly cried out;

"N-No! Wait! I know about you and Francis!" Arthur stopped in his tracks.

"And? You've said that before, you know. How repetitive." He snatched the diary from out of the American's hands. "In any case, you've been reading too much." He started towards the door.

"I know something that probably wasn't written in that diary." Alfred called out.

Arthur turned back around, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What is it?"

"You're trapped aren't you? You're trapped because of your mistakes in life." When Arthur remained silent, he continued. "That's right. Those things are holding you down, whatever they are."

"Y-You don't know that!" protested the ghost.

"I think I do." Alfred replied, gaining more confidence. "And I think I can help you. Deep down, you know that what I'm saying is true, but you're trying to deny it because….because you can't accept the fact that you need someone for the first time in your afterlife."

Arthur blinked. Who did this guy think he was, telling him what was wrong with his life? But still, as much as he hated to admit it, the boy had a point. He was trapped in by force, perhaps by his own hatred.

"How can you help me? No one can help me now; I'm dead. I'm doomed to live out the remainder of my existence in here, even if it tears to the ground, I will still be trapped."

"Not with me here." Alfred said. "With me, I will do all I can to free you; after all, I am a hero!" he gave a dazzling smile.

"Well, you are the first human in years that I've been able to make contact with. Hmm...hell, I don't know what I have to lose anymore, like there's anything I can do now that'll farther damage myself."

"Just trust me; I'll free you!" the boy held out his hand. "Alfred Jones at your service!" Arthur shook it.

"Arthur Kirkland, but you already knew that didn't you?" If what this American was saying was true, then maybe, just maybe they did have a chance.

"Yeah, kinda did." Alfred said with a sleepy smile. He yawned. "But don't think this'll make me get over my fear of ghosts! Personally, I'm still a little creeped out that I'm talking to a freakin' dead guy in my room."

The spirit rolled his eyes. "Yes well, it seems that you're becoming tired. I might as well go." Alfred grabbed his hand.

"Hold on, I might need that diary." Arthur turned around, horrified.

"M-My d-diary, what for?"

"It might be of some use to me later on. I promise I'll give it back as soon as possible." the ghost sighed and handed him the notebook.

"Take good care of it; it was a gift from a…friend." Alfred grinned knowingly.

"Francis?"

"You could say that." and with that, he turned back around and left.

"It was nice talking to you, kinda." Alfred said. Thinking about how he was going to help an old dead guy made him shiver with excitement. Things at this school just got a little more interesting.

The next morning for the boy wasn't anything different from he usually did; wake up, grab a cup of coffee, and head down to his classroom. The only thing different about him was he started carrying around the ghost's diary. If he was going to help him; there had to be key things that would've affected his life…or afterlife. The first place he thought would be a great place to start was right before he died. It wasn't that hard to find in the diary; that page seemed to stick out of the book. He kept the book under one of his school books so it looked like he was actually studying. When teachers saw that he was so focused on his books, they gave a look of approval, which is something Alfred rarely got.

Dinner came quicker than normal much to the student's delight. He sat down at an empty table with a burger and started focusing on the book again. He was so wrapped into the thing that he didn't notice the table across from his table was staring directly at him.

"I've never seen that Jones kid study so hard." whispered one.

"Yeah, I think he's finally realized that he needs to pass these exams." joked another. They all chuckled.

"Well, I think he's finally gotten some brains, what do you think Cong?"

The Asian boy looked over at Alfred's empty table, staring hard at the thing he was so interested in. "I think he's discovered something worth looking into." All Cong got was a few awkward smiles before returning back to their pervious conversation.

"Alfred, Alfred?"

The American glanced up from the book to see his brother standing over him. "Oh hey, Matty; what's up?"

"Nothing much. And you?"

"Just studying for those exams." he said, glancing over at the book again. Matthew tried to look at them, but Alfred blocked the book with his arm.

"Oh really; do you need any help now?"

"No, not really." came the brother's quick reply.

Matthew gave Alfred a questioning look before leaving. "Alright then, see you later."

"Mm hm."

After the last bit of classes was completed for the day, Alfred quickly hurried back to his dormitory. There was no time to lose, after all, he promised Arthur he'd be there as soon as he could. He dropped his bag onto the floor and walked out with only the diary. He was almost to the entrance when suddenly the boy from the table before snatched the thing right out of his hands. It took the American awhile to register what had happened. Before he could take it back, the boy was already reading it.

"Just as I suspected, this is _that_ diary." He tossed it back to Alfred who was now completely confused.

"What do you mean _that_ diary?"

"Surely you know in your hands you have the diary of Arthur Kirkland, don't you? Even you should be able to read the inside of the front cover."

"How do you know about Arthur?" the American asked, his brows furrowed.

"Our little ghostly resident? Well, let's just say that he and I aren't on the best of terms with each other. And if you must know, ask him. I'm sure he'll be delighted to tell you. One more thing, if you still have any doubts, what you're thinking is correct; there are about three things in that diary that's holding him down. And the first one won't be too hard to fix. It seems that he's waiting for you now, you should go up to him."

Before Alfred could stop him, the Asian was already gone. Odd. There was more than one person who knew of the ghost's presence in the house? And furthermore, just how the hell did he know what the American was thinking? Was he just playing with him? Asians, you can never tell. Shaking the thought from his head, he went up the stairs and onto the third floor. He opened the door that lead to Arthur's old study, but nobody seemed to be there.

"Ghost, I'm back!" he called out uncertainly.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't come Jones." said the sudden voice behind him, causing Alfred to leap back in shock.

"Don't… ever…. do that!" he cried, trying to catch his breath. "I'm still trying to accept the fact that I'm seeing a ghost right in front of me, I don't need you scaring me to death!" Arthur shook his head.

"Sorry."

"And why didn't you tell me that one Asian kid can see you? I thought I was the only one."

"What on earth are you talking ab-" the ghost's expression suddenly became dark. "Wait; don't tell me this boy had eyebrows similar to mine."

Alfred nodded. "He told me that there are three things holding you down and that you guys weren't on the best of terms."

"You damn right we aren't!" Arthur said, his temper rising once again. "Bastard's always telling secrets of mine. He read the diary himself, the brat. Thank God he left for 7 years; he drove me insane…even if he's my great-great-grand adoptive nephew."

"So that's your connection with him? Is that why he can see you?"

Arthur said down on the chair, rubbing his temples. "Well, not necessarily. I honestly have no idea why he can see me. Those Kirks or whatever the hell they call themselves aren't usually able to see me. I checked as I walked past the whole lot of them. None of them even turned an eye, except for one; Cong Zheng. He was a transfer student from Hong Kong. After he saw me, he decided to find out everything about me such as, looking in my diary. Of course, I had to punish him. It's the reason why his eyebrows are the way they are now. Big mistake on his part." he added with a smirk.

Alfred rubbed his own eyebrows, wondering if his would start to grow just by touching the man's stuff. "Erm…so about that diary…"

"Don't worry; as long as you manage to appeal to my good side, you won't be cursed."

"Good to know that…so about those three things, I think I found one of the most apparent." the American flipped open the diary to the page he bookmarked. "According to this, you say something about your group. What is that about?"

The ghost gave a sigh. "I suppose that can only be explained with a flashback."

"A….wha?" Before he could ask any further, the room suddenly changed. The walls became newer; the dust seemed to fade away, the books stacked neatly onto the bookcase. And sitting right in front of the two was a younger version of the Englishman. Standing right behind them was a man with partially wavy hair. He straightened his glasses and walked right through the two. Alfred's eyes widened.

"Am I dead? Did you kill me?"

"Hush, you need to see this." the older version of Arthur warned.

"Oh god, oh god, you did kill me, didn't you…"

"Alfred, are you really that much of an idiot? You weren't even born when this happened. We're taking a look at my past."

"Really? Well, that would explain why it smells like old people." Alfred stopped when he saw the glare the ghost was giving at him. "_Right, keep him on his good side, _don't_ want to end up with caterpillars for eyebrows." _

"Arthur," the guy began to the younger version, "You are a young, promising, 17 year old man that seems to have a bright future ahead of them. You have a brilliant mind with so many ideas that you have to offer to London, not to mention you have wealth. Use it wisely and you will-"

"Yes, yes, yes, my father told you to say that didn't he?" the boy interrupted without looking up from his papers. "I know he has." The other gulped and tightened his tie.

"Well, he might have. He also told me that you shouldn't take other people's wealth without asking."

Arthur gave a little chuckle. "James, I have no idea what you're talking about. Do you take me for some sort of modern day pirate?" The man looked down at is shoes.

"Well no…"

"I do!" came another voice. All four turned their attention to the Spaniard that had entered the room. James hurriedly made his way out of the room with a quick, 'pardon.' Arthur stood up, giving the man a smile as warm as Antarctica.

"Ah, Antonio. How delightful to see you not in rags."

"You bastard!" he shouted. "You stole from the Carriedos!" Arthur laughed. Alfred shivered. There was something unnerving about that laugh, he just didn't know what.

"Us Kirklands are hard workers, we would never steal from anyone else. All we are are friendly business rivals! Your parents and my parents are on friendly terms with each other. They go out to eat half the time."

"But that was before your father fell ill, _Arthur_. Now it seems that we can't talk without arguing." Antonio struggled to hold back tears. "Our riches, everything…they're gone! Our house is now worthless; we can't even afford to pay for food, all because of you!"

"Honestly, Antonio; go find work like all the other Spaniards. It shouldn't be too hard; you have a nice body."

"Sell myself? You, you! I don't even know what you are!" he stormed out of the room.

"This is what you get for trying to compete with the Kirklands, Carriedo." Younger Arthur gave a look of fake pity at the Spaniard as he closed the door behind him. The room shifted again back to present day, leaving Alfred completely stunned.

"Wow…Arthur, you were a total dick back then." the spirit didn't hear him.

"Of course looking back, I feel ashamed of what I've done, but that Spanish prick had it coming!"

"It seems you still are a dick. So I'm guessing a simple apology won't do much good will it? Considering he's dead. Unless, he's just like you and is still there, in his house waiting for you to come and apologize."

"Jones, that just might be the case. It's like him to stick around for long periods of time; perhaps you could say sorry for me if he is there." Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Yep, defiantly still a dick."

**Hope you liked it! Review to help me with my motivation! (Especially if you favorite it!)**


	4. Antonio

_**Moving right along in this story. ^^I can see this one being my first finished one. Thanks to everyone who is reviewing! It really inspires me to write more. Keep it up! :D**_

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To the students' relief, the next morning was a free day; where students were able to actually have fun and do whatever they pleased. Most either spent their time playing video games or sleeping. Only a handful of those actually studied. But for Alfred, he was stuck playing hero for Arthur. The American watched glumly as the others around him had a wonderful time chatting, while he prepared to leave for the Spaniard's house.

"_To think I could be sleeping, but no…I have to do rich boy's dirty work….but I guess it's worth it; I mean, when do you get to help out a ghost?" _

Arthur had told him that Antonio lived about a mile from the school. Chances are that Antonio hadn't left the ruined mansion or at least, that's what he had hoped...

"Going to help Antonio?" Alfred turned around. It was that one kid from before hovering over him.

"Oh hey…Cong. And yes that's what I'm doing."

The Asian raised an eyebrow.

"And I'm guessing you have a pass to leave school grounds?"

"A pass? Whaddya mean?"

"Just last month a rule was passed that a student who wants to leave school grounds must have a pass from a teacher. The only way to get one is if the teacher believes you to be hard working and have an exceptional grade in all of yo-"

"Yeah, I know I'm screwed." Alfred interrupted. "Is there anyway else I can leave without having one?"

"You can partner up with someone who has one. I would love to, but seeing as the tests are only a couple of months away, I have to prepare." And with that, he walked back into the school. Alfred huffed; was there anyone who was smart, but cool enough to not study in this school? He was about to go back inside, when he spotted Matthew going towards the gate to the guard. In his hand was a little green slip. Bingo.

"Hey Matthew!" he called out while running over to the Canadian.

"Yes, Al? I was just about to go do some outside research on my history project."

"Well, uh…I was too! About that famous guy…er….Snakesphere?"

"Shakespeare." Matthew corrected. "And you were? What library were you planning on going to? I'm pretty sure our library has all the facts you need to know on Shakespeare. Arthur Kirkland was a fan you know. Did you also know that he had several business rivals and…"

"Got rid of every single one of them?" Alfred guessed. Matthew blinked.

"Why, yes. How did you know that?"

"Let's just say I have a pretty good source. Anyway, if you're so fascinated on Arthur Kirkland then why don't we make a quick stop at this one place I found out before heading out to the library?"

"Well, I guess we could."_ It's not every day that Alfred knew something that he did. _The brother's face lit up.

"Awesome! Come on, it's not that far from here."

To the American's surprise, the abandoned mansion was still pretty much together. The two set their bags at the front entrance before advancing further inside. The place was completely bare, not furniture of any sort was still there, probably the work of robbers. Vines and leaves covered the rotting wooden floor. From what the American could see, there was no sign of the Spanish ghost. Matthew cleared his throat.

"A-Al? Are you sure this is the place?" What if this was private property and they were both arrested for trespassing on another's land? It was just like Alfred to risk the police to get what he wanted. Several occurrences in the past had proven that to be true.

"Of course!" Alfred assured. He was pretty certain that this was the place that Arthur was talking about. It looked creepy enough, didn't it? The duo walked deeper into the mansion, dodging overgrown trees that had found their way into the place through the large windows. It was like a jungle of twisted plants. And despite the Canadian's doubts that this was even legal, he followed after his brother up the stairs and into a fairly large room.

"This must've been a private library." Matthew said. "Whoever lived here must have read a lot." Alfred looked around.

"Yeah, do you see anything out of the ordinary by any chance, say, another person in the room?"

"Erm...no...listen Al, if were done here can we please go to the library now?" the boy asked. "this place is starting to give me chills."

The American sighed. "Yeah, sure...just give me another minute." Matthew nodded, heading back downstairs to collect their things. He took a look at the destroyed room.

"If you're in here Antonio, please say something now."

Even after several minutes, nothing happened. Alfred gave a disappointed sigh and began to walk out of the room. What were they going to do now? What was he going to tell Arthur?

"_Excuse me?"_

The American whipped around. Standing by the dull window was Arthur's old business rival. The ghost blinked before inching closer to Alfred. Raising a hand, he touched the young man's face. He jumped back in shock.

"Oh, no; we're not doing that again!" Were all ghosts this interested in feeling things, more specifically, him? The ghost backed away.

"Y-You can...see me?"

"Yeah, the same thing happened to Arthur when we first met." Alfred replied. So Antonio had been at this place the entire time. Thank God for that.

"Arthur?" the spirit questioned. "As in Arthur Kirkland?"

"Yep."

"Damn."

"Believe me; he's paying for is deeds. He can't leave either." Alfred said. "May I ask what's keeping you here?"

"I was hoping that bastard would come and apologize to me, but it seems he died right after I did"

"Why did you die?" asked the American curiously, his brow furrowed.

"...I just lost the will to live." Antonio said glumly. "Don't you ever get that feeling that when you fail to do something for another…you just go over? I did, and never woke up the next day."

Alfred gave a look of pity upon the Spaniard. Arthur's own selfish deeds had driven him to commit suicide. What a terrible way to go out. He gave a small cough.

"Well, if I play this recorded message from Arthur, will you leave?" Antonio blinked, slightly confused at what the American was planning.

"…Sure. As long it's Arthur's voice."

Alfred nodded. "Good." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tape recorder. On the tape was a previously recorded message from Arthur apologizing formally. It had taken several tries to get it right. After getting several looks of confusion from the Spaniard, he pressed the 'play' button.

All of a sudden, there was a flash of green light. Antonio stepped back and watched in fascination as the young boy transformed right before him. He became smaller, his muscles were less noticeable. Those once blue eyes had melted into green. The eyebrows became darker and thicker. What used to be Alfred Jones was now Arthur Kirkland.

The newly transformed boy glanced around for a moment before directing his attention to the astonished Spaniard in front of him. He gave a small grin.

"Hello Antonio, it's been a while." The other ghost came out of his shock.

"I-Is that really you? W-What happened to that other fellow?" Arthur straightened out Alfred's jacket.

"He'll be back, which is why we don't have a lot of time; I can only control things for a few minutes." he took in a deep breath before continuing. "Listen, Antonio; I'm truly sorry about all the trouble I've caused you over the years. I'm also sorry for keeping you in this house for my problems. I was young and foolish at 17..."

"Not to mention a greedy bastard."

Arthur felt his hands and teeth clench together. "Yes...that also...I'm asking you for my forgiveness; will you accept it?"

The Spaniard pondered the question for a while. Arthur tensed up. If he didn't accept his apology, then he would never get out of that house again.

"I don't see why not." he finally muttered. "All I wanted was an apology from you; and I finally got it." he gave a small smile.

Arthur returned the smile, relieved. "Yes, well you didn't think I could do it did you?"

Antonio shook his head. "No, I thought I would be here forever. I'd almost given up on you." he looked towards the window; the clouds were breaking up to reveal light. "Well, it's time for me to go...look forward to seeing you on the other side when you get there."

The Englishman nodded and shook his hand. "As to you. Take care my friend."

"Adiós mi amigo." and with that he vanished from site. Almost instantaneously afterwards, the Englishman reverted back into Alfred who was plenty confused by the ordeal.

"W-What the hell just happened?" he looked around to see where the Spanish ghost went. Then he got the message? If so, then why couldn't the American remember giving it to him? Ah well, that was another mystery to be solved for another day. Alfred put the tape recorder back into his jacket and went up to meet Matthew.

"What took you so long? I was about to go back up to see what was holding you."

"Oh, I just had to take care of a few things." Alfred replied, patting his brother on the back. "Ready to go to the library?" Matthew nodded.

"Sure I guess."

"Alright!"

The two walked away from the abandoned mansion, a positive look upon the American's face. He was going to do it; he was going to save Arthur.

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**And there you have it, chapter 3 ^^ Personally, I don't like this one as much as the previous. One, it's a lot shorter, and two, I think I rushed it a little too much. Ah, well…I pay better attention to this story. By the way, what Antonio said about how died will be important later on...**

**Any ideas you want to give me? Review! Oh, and check my profile for the next update on any of my stories. **


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